


Dawn's Pony

by Thistlerose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Future Fic, Gen, Scotland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dawn is tempted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn's Pony

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this in 2007, but wasn't sure how to finish it, so I abandoned it for six years. This morning I rediscovered it in my WiP folder and decided to wrap things up.

He was the most beautiful pony that Dawn had ever seen, sleek and silvery as a lake by night. She hugged her knees to her chest and watched quite calmly as he trotted toward her across the purple heather. He stopped about a foot from where she sat and lowered his neck invitingly. His mane was the color of storm clouds, and his ears looked soft as velvet. Dawn's fingers twitched with the desire to stroke those ears, but she kept her hands firmly on her knees.

After a few minutes, the pony lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were big, shiny, and dark, like melted chocolate. 

Dawn shook her head. "Sorry, not gonna work."

The pony tossed his head and his mane rippled and shone in the sunlight.

"I _know_ you're a kelpie," Dawn said.

"I am not." The pony sounded indignant.

"You so totally are. I grew up near a Hellmouth. I _know_ demons. And fairies. And other sorts of things."

"Fine." The pony shimmered, blurred, and became a slender young man. His skin was dark, silver-tinted, like a lake by night, and his black hair fell to his shoulders. His ears were slightly pointed at the tips. His clothes – blue jeans and a Rangers F.C. sweatshirt – were disappointingly normal. 

"Well," he said as he sank to the ground beside Dawn, "I _was_ going to take you for a ride across the glen, but no, you just had to be a clever little girl." His accent was Scottish and quite pleasant.

"I'm not little," Dawn said. "You were going to try to drown me." He started to protest. "You _so_ were. You were going to carry me to the nearest lake and throw me in."

"I was not."

"I've _read_ stuff about kelpies." Buffy had made her do the research when they first got to Scotland. Xander had tried to make it fun for her, calling her Giles-in-training, but she'd known that Buffy was just being overprotective – as usual.

"And I've read stuff about girls," the kelpie said. "Doesn't make me an expert. Besides, do you see a lake anywhere?" 

"No," Dawn admitted. "But that doesn't mean there isn't one. You'd have found one and—"

"I might've tossed you in, yeah," the kelpie said, picking a sprig of heather and twirling it between his fingers. His long fingernails had a sort of rainbow light, like fish scales. "Or I might have taken you on a journey that would have changed you forever. I might have taken you into the hollow hills, to my world." 

He leaned toward her. She leaned away. "What are you doing?"

"Sniffing you."

" _Why_?"

He shrugged and pulled back. "You smell nice. Kind of…soft and…not natural. But nice."

"That's my lotion," Dawn said. "Sandalwood Rose. Actually, it's my sister's, but—"

He cut her off. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but – you're not quite natural, are you? No offense."

"I don't know what you—" she stammered.

"Oh, I think you do. It's all right. I don't hold it against you. That's not the reason I tried to carry you off."

"Well…good." 

"Do you want to know the reason?"

"I'm all helpless and alone?"

"Well, yes. _And_ you're pretty."

He said it frankly, without a leer, but Dawn felt a thrill of alarm. She had a weapon in her pocket – a Swiss Army knife that Xander had given her – and she wondered if she could get it before the kelpie realized what she was doing. She wondered if the little knife would even be of any use. She'd never used it for anything except cutting through plastic CD wrappers and the string on bakery boxes. Besides, it wasn't cold iron. She couldn't remember if it had to be. She'd read enough to placate Buffy; she hadn't memorized _everything._

"I'm not going to hurt you," the kelpie said, tossing the heather sprig aside. "If I'd wanted to, I'd have tried."

"You did try," Dawn pointed out.

"Well, I wanted to _then._ _Now_ I think I'd rather sit and chat. You _are_ pretty. Much too pretty to drown."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

The kelpie shrugged. "As you will."

Dawn considered. On the one hand, she was seventeen – old enough for an exciting romance, in other words – and he was gorgeous. It didn’t seem quite fair that Buffy should keep attracting supernatural hotties, while Dawn only ever seemed to get the skinny, pimply high school types. (JR didn’t count, she’d decided a long time ago.)

On the other hand, she wasn’t stupid.

“Thanks,” Dawn said, “but I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure?” he said. “Think, for a moment, about what you’re passing up. Faerie Land, where the flowers chime like bells, and the apples are crisp and taste like sparkling wine. Where it’s always summer and, and we dance all night until…”

As he spoke, he leaned closer still, and she caught a whiff of his scent: cool, and slightly metallic, like the air just before a thunderstorm. She shivered with dread and desire – which he noticed, surely – but she clung to reason, and shook her head firmly.

“Nope, sorry. You’ll have to find someone else. Not to drown, I mean. Please don’t drown anyone. Just leave me alone.” She grabbed her book, which she’d dropped and forgotten when he’d first appeared, and thumbed determinedly through the pages, searching for her place.

The kelpie stood and brushed the grass from his jeans. “Suit yourself then, love.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him shimmer and change. For a second he was there: tall and black-haired and sexy, despite the incongruous sweatshirt. Then he was a pool of liquid mercury hanging in the air. Then he was a pony again, galloping away across the hills, his flanks shining, his mane rippling behind him.

Figuring it was safe, she lowered her book and watched him go. The hills seemed to close around him, like arms drawing him into an embrace. When she could no longer see him, she let go a little sigh, half-relieved, half-wistful. She’d done the right thing, she knew. Buffy would be proud. Or not, since she’d actually _talked_ to him, and Buffy seemed to think that was as bad as getting matching tattoos … or something.

Maybe Buffy was better off not knowing.

In any case, Dawn would go on to have many exciting romances, some supernatural, some not. But she never saw the kelpie again.

4/20/2013


End file.
